


A Charge of Sorrow

by Cliccbait



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliccbait/pseuds/Cliccbait
Summary: An alternative origin story for an iconic character. See if you can guess who before the ending?Trigger warning: Sexual Abuse, Abortion,
Kudos: 3





	A Charge of Sorrow

Gette sprinted through the forest, ignoring her aching legs, the stress on her lower back, and the stings as her feet were pierced by tiny rocks and sticks hidden under the snow. As much as Gette wanted to catch her breath, stopping was not an option. Police sirens, helicopter whirls, and barking dogs echoed through the distance behind her. Once they discovered her tracks, all the distance she gained would shortly close. 

Between the clouds limiting the moonlight and the dense forestation completely untouched by humans for as long as she could remember, Gette had hope that her escape would succeed tonight. She was fortunate her captors resided on the edge of human civilization, fearing the doom lurking within this forest outside their city. No soldier wanted to spend time in these woods, and their attention would be divided between their well-being and catching Gette. 

Her cell guard underestimated Gette’s capabilities, believing her warped, strained body was confined to her bedroom. To be fair, for any other woman, this time in her life would render her immobile. But she’d prepared months for this escape, using every sliver of privacy to keep in shape despite the burdens her body carried. It was frankly way easier to escape than it should have been, as her intelligence and worth were underestimated long before she decided to escape. The guard was probably dead at this point, as he lost her captor’s most prized possession. 

As she ran through the forest, Gette didn’t notice any of the death and despair her town associated with the area. If anything, the path flourished with life. Between the untouched foliage and the chirping of crickets and nocturnal birds, these woods seemed opposite her dead, gray city. These trees were not constructed, her path was not blueprinted, and the life surrounding her was not controlled by any militant leader. Perhaps this sense of freedom is why her captor forbade their town from entering the woods to begin with. She felt energized, as if this freedom was radiating through the air and entering directly into her body. 

Gette wondered what her captor told their community when he halted tonight’s grand military gala to form a massive manhunt. Information was seldom shared with his town’s residents because her captor didn’t have to share any of it. What was shared was distributed through a regime-filtered lens promising progress and prosperity. Any person with a brain could disprove the propaganda listed, even by merely traveling to the next town, but no one was to question the government without compromising their safety. It rarely happened anyways, as every family had workers in the regime assisting with their “mission”. 

Eventually. Gette’s sprint took her past the forest and into a clearing. Uniform green mounds lined a path toward a distant, massive building. When her feet hit concrete, she finally understood what she was seeing. The road, filled with abandoned old-fashioned cars that had long since succumbed to ivy and grass.

The sight halted her sprint, and she took a moment to inspect one of the cars more closely. The back seat was filled with suitcases and an empty car seat. Whoever left these behind was in a hurry. The doors were unlocked, so Gette sat in the driver’s seat to catch her breath. She tried to imagine what happened on this street. Something scared this community, causing families like the one that owned this car to leave behind their home and possessions in a hurry. Perhaps it was an evil leader like her own captor, and the town’s residents tried to make a break for it. No wonder the forest was off limits, Gette thought. This area was a sign of revolution.

The thundering crack of a toppling tree snapped Gette out of her thoughts and back into her situation. Her captors sounded closer, and when she turned around she could see some light in the distance that had to be helicopter spotlights. Her captors definitely found her trail if they tracked her this far. It was at this point she realized how big a mistake it was to stop running. She could barely move her body and found blood dripping down her inner thighs. Looking over her shoulder at the looming building, Gette decided it was time to hide, now that running was physically impossible. 

Using the cars to hold herself up, she hobbled down the road as fast as her legs would allow. Halfway to her destination, the snow covering the ground and cars disappeared at an instant. It didn’t feel particularly warmer, Gette thought, but she was thankful her pursuers had no more tracks to help pinpoint her location. As she approached the structure, Gette realized it wasn’t one large building but a complete town. There were parks, apartment complexes and community buildings all succumbing to nature and the elements. With so many more hiding spots available, she allowed herself some hope and made her way to one of the apartment buildings a few blocks deeper into the city. 

As she reached to open the front door, Gette noticed the metal door handle emitted an ominous glow. Her exhaustion was clearly giving her hallucinations, so she ignored the bright yellow-green aura her brain conjured and entered the building. The lobby looked relatively normal aside from the various glowing door knobs, door frames, and one table. Gette took that as a good sign because, hopefully, there was a safe and secure room that could hide her for a while. She sighed in relief when she spotted a water bottle on the front desk. Ignoring the ever-loudening sirens in the distance, she downed half the bottle before she noticed the disgusting metallic taste. She was still going to finish the bottle when her stomach released a sharp pain. Clutching her lower torso, she realized the blood covering her hands left a trail for those dogs to follow. Instead of drinking the rest of the bottle, she used the water to clean herself up as best she could. Once finished, she left the building and made her way deeper into the neighborhood. 

Gette ignored the crescendo of sirens following her up to this point, but the deafening helicopter whoosh meant the search party entered the town behind her, eliminating any more time to travel. She ducked into the closest building, another apartment complex that fared way worse than the first one. There was no front door and the lobby looked ransacked, reminding Gette of the chaos she saw on the road earlier. Gette entered the stairwell, thinking that an apartment toward the top of the building would best conceal herself while the search party scoured the town. At one point dragging herself up the stairs, around the fourth or fifth floor, a rancid smell triggered every gag reflex in her body. Something must have died in one of the apartments on this level. That floor was definitely one to avoid. 

Three steps toward the next floor, the barking dogs proved her caution was well-warranted. By their loud volume, they must have led the search party directly to the apartment building she first visited. The soldiers would scour that building before trying any other, so Gette still had some time. She wondered if the dogs could still find her without a blood trail. Certainly her captor provided some of her clothes which would have her scent as well. That thought halted her climb. Cursing her cautious brain, she turned toward the door hiding that awful smell. If anything could obscure her scent, it was behind this door

Fighting down the vomit pushing up her throat, she opened the door and made her way to the hallway. Every apartment door she tried to open was locked except for one halfway down the hall. As she approached it, she realized this room was the source of the torturous smell. Bracing herself for the worst, she peeked in and immediately hurled in the entryway. Laying in the living room face-down was a body, or what Gette could have classified as a body at some point. It was half skeleton and half bulbous, pussy, mutated rotting flesh. She imagined this body was put in a microwave and then moved to this apartment. 

At this point Gette’s horror and nausea were outweighed by her exhaustion and will to survive. Thankfully the door was able to lock behind her, and she could begin settling in to wait out this search party. Despite knowing the sink wouldn’t work, she tried the faucet anyways. Failing there, she opened the fridge where a pitcher of water greeted her like an old friend. Affording herself a sip, she winced at that same odd, metallic taste from the water bottle in the lobby. She took the rest of the container to the bathroom, stripped, and used a towel she dampened to clean herself up some more. After that, she used the remaining water to wash her clothes in the sink and remove as much blood and grime as possible. Hopefully at this point all traces of her scent were gone, and the putrid smell in the entry hallway would conceal her presence entirely. 

A rather large woman had lived in this apartment, so thankfully Gette found a dress and underwear in the bedroom that fit her annoyingly-shaped body. Closing the blinds and laying on the bed, she listened to the search party as they made their way through the town. The helicopters flew in circles around the whole settlement, but the dogs and crashing sounded like they were still in that first building Gette entered, or at least in that area. That meant either the search party was overwhelmed by their task of searching this giant town, or they were extremely thorough. She hoped it was the former and not the latter, but either way it meant there was plenty of time to rest and think of a new plan. 

It felt wrong to be so comfortable on this bed despite her life being on the line. A quick nap was definitely a bad idea, because at this level of exhaustion the search party could break down her door and drag Gette out without even waking her up. Minutes or hours went by, Gette couldn’t tell, and her thoughts wandered to her captor. She wondered if he even bothered to join the search party. That would be the most attention he gave her since their wedding several years ago. But then again, this wasn’t really about her; it was about what she had stolen from him. 

He was a fine man up to the wedding, not particularly thrilling, but there weren't many choices to begin with. Marriage as a whole was just something you did to look normal and conform to the nation’s values. She didn’t realize until after the wedding that her captor was only interested in her family’s higher status within the political elite. It’s not like they were at the top or anything, Gette never cared about status to begin with, but status turned out to be her husband’s motive the entire time. He had no family or status until that point, and through Gette he was able to join that upper circle and make his way up the ladder, all the way to the top of her town. She called him out on his power-hungry bullshit once. That was all it took to convince him to eliminate her freedom. Her distaste of him was a threat to his public standing, and thus his power, so he placed her under constant military supervision with a figurative gun pointed at her head at all times. She was still brought to public events and the like as his wife, but she had to keep her mouth shut and her face pleasant or she would die from some tragic illness or accident and no one in her town would know the truth. Gette survived all this time for that reason. There was no way in hell she would die without taking him down with her. 

She slowly rubbed her belly, unsure of her feelings toward this lump that caused so much trouble up-to-this point. It slowed her down, tore into her body, and worst all, her captor was obsessed with it. To her husband, this thing opened up the doorway to dynasty. He would groom it from birth, manipulating and molding it into the next ruler of their town. It ensured his ideologies, his grip, clutched their world far beyond his life. Gette knew if she had remained in her cell when it arrived in four or five weeks, she would be killed shortly after. Considering he sent his entire army to hunt her down, it was clear she made the right choice to run. 

When she was younger, Gette wanted kids. She had lots of love to share, but at the moment, all she felt was resent toward the lump, the baby. She had no plan if she survived the night, and she had no clue how to get out of the country and take care of it. When she thought about the several humiliating nights in which it was conceived, all Gette felt was rage. The sight of this child would always remind Gette of her husband and these painful years. These hateful thoughts struck Gette with guilt. The baby wasn’t to blame for any of this. It could live a good life and never know its father. 

The baby clearly felt Gette’s rage and sent a sharp pain through her body in response. Clenching the sheets and pacing her breaths, she waited for the baby to chill out. When after a minute the relief never came, she fought to hold in her screams. The pain kept growing despite her best efforts to calm down. The second a whelp left her mouth, a helicopter spotlight zoomed past her window, shining a bright light into the room. It had to be a coincidence, but Gette’s initial reaction was to roll off the bed and crawl to the closet. Laying on the ground, she felt the apartment floor shake. The soldiers were in her building. 

Between the insufferable body pain and the inevitable doom of abduction, Gette sat on the closet floor miserable and defeated. It was only a matter of time before they found her, so she considered screaming for the hell of it. She was fully panicking at this point, desperate for any sort of release. Nothing hurt worse than the idea that her captor was going to win, despite her years of patiently suffering. This child would grow up under his influence, inevitably becoming just as evil a person. 

A pool of blood formed under her body, only visible in the dark closet because of that same neon-yellow glow that’s followed her around the city. She looked up to see some metal coat hangers, radiating the same color that followed her around town. Gette wondered if these illusions were a sign, pointing herself to her last option. Between the unending body pain and the rumbling footsteps of the search party growing louder every minute, she accepted this direction quickly, unraveling a coat hanger to form a long, glowing hook. As she braced herself for the unthinkable, Gette couldn’t decide whether this was an act of hate or mercy. 

After a deafening scream, Gette passed out in pain. 

She woke in her cell alone, her body so relaxed in bed that she must have slept for days. She groggily stood up and made her way to the bathroom. Halfway through her morning routine she noticed her belly bump was gone. The memories of her escape flooded back to her in a wave, overwhelming her with panic. She returned to her bedroom and banged on the locked door, screaming incomprehensible sentences to the guards. Eventually her captor, her husband, unlocked her door and entered the room. His attitude was smug as Gette tried to get any sort of answers from him. Begging for an explanation, she acknowledged she was of no use to him anymore. Disagreeing, he buzzed a communication device, stating life is precious and she had plenty to live for. Soon after, a maid entered the room, carrying a small bundle in her arms with care. Gette fell to her knees when her husband took the bundle and removed the blankets revealing the face of a beautiful, healthy baby. Not only did the baby survive the night, but its skin shared the same eerie, neon glow as the metal in that city. Her husband called the baby a miracle and a wonder of science, stating this boy would do more for his “mission” than any normal baby ever could. He thanked Gette for her part, ensuring she would live in solitude forever, watching their son achieve Ukraine’s world domination. She was at a loss of words as her husband took the child away and locked her door for what she imagined would be forever. 

A television was added to her room. As the years flew by, Gette watched in disgust as her son was smuggled into America, taking residence in a town called Springfield. Fighting crime as Radioactive Boy, then eventually Radioactive Man, the hero became a staple of the American Dream. He accumulated respect and admiration as movies, comic books, and action figures made their way into every home in the country. Gette could do nothing as her husband’s grip over the world’s leading country silently grew beyond imagination, and she prayed she died before that vision took hold of reality.


End file.
